Harper College - Halcyon Yearbook (Palatine, IL)

Page 52 text:

Senzinarian A gargoyle gapes in waiting at tlze west gate Tlze trashnzan spills tlze can . . . Tlze basket, tlze pan regurgitate tlze secrets of a hundred families. The buzzard with his pick-stick and burlap shoulder-sack grins a toothless crescent piecrusted by an aslzen tongue. He knows something. At the west gate a pillbox squats tatting steamlace streamers. You would point to its screened-in grilles and say: See! it's a vent for underground pipes! 1, myself have thought of it as a pedestal for the pock-beaked gargoyle wlzo crouches atop leaning twisted on his spike-tipped p ready to vomit a river of lead onto tlze sidewalk. Ask tlze pug-dwarf fr he grins, thrusts the stick-point hard into tlze belll' of a dead Dixie cup A calls the fnass an altar Anyone can see that. - L'UlISCL'l'llIL't1 to the sacrifice of wastehasket heirlooins. SU ro Petjidious Man - Part I Perfidious man, cursed tlze day you left the cave to poison, pilfer, and maim The beauty of the Blue Heron, Lake Erie, and everv corner of our blueegreen spaceship earth . . . You bleniished tlze eye of Cancer Touched and dejilea' tlzat silver orb of tlze nzoon-children irreparablv injected the Piscean tides of tlze Mother sea and acidlv afflicted tlze sweet, refreshing nectar of tlze Aquarians. Perfidious Man f Part I1 What makes tlze mutant experiment called Man think tlzat he is above lllother Nurture, removed enough to torture and tamper with the loveelife pearl ofthe Universe??? Perfidious man, you have forgotten tlze Ecclesiastical warning Tlzat you are not preeminent over tlze Beast: for all is vanity . . . as one dieth, so dieth tlze other . . . till death, us do part.

Page 51 text:

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Page 53 text:

Tlze thought of death submerged in a lake the wind of a life HUF to be. settles in the ripples of the surface directs it as a strictly pensive process, the current of a being that was stirs in the depths of latent conscious developing from a slowly swirling insignificance The thought of death submerged in a lake gripped by a bowl of terrain known as existance No Name THE WIND By Cynthia Norris The wind knocks upon my door. MV door rattles, then parts ofthe wind come in around the cracks and the pine standing next to my cabin rubs its short, strong needles on the boards. I sit straight up, awakened from a sound sleep: the door rattles and bits of wind come in so I snuggle down under blankets and sheets before the moving wisps of air make me cold, but the sound of the tree rubbing on dead wood makes me cold. FROM A PRISON CAMP Look God, I have spoken to You, But now I want to say How Do You Do, You see God, they told nze You didn 'I exist, And like a fool, I believed all this. Last Niglzt from tlzis hell hole, I saw your sky I figured right tlzen, they had told me a lie: Had I taken time to see Your Face. Well, I guess tlzere isn 't much nzore to say But I 'nz sure glad God, I niet You today: I guess the prison guards will soon be here, But 1'nz IZOI afraid since I know You 're lzere. They 're connning - well God, 1'll have to go, I like you lots, tlzi I like you lots, I want You to know, Look now, tlzis torture lzas lzorrible fright, Who knows f I may come to Your house tonight. Though I wasnlt friendly to You before, I wonder God, if You 'd wait at Your door, Look, I 'nz crfving - nze, shedding tears? I wish 1 had known You these many years. They 're lzere e I have to go now God f Goodbye! Strange. . . since I met You - I'nz not afraid to die! Prisoner of War Camp Osaka, Japan August 12, 1945 51